Portrait of A Young Couple, 1977
by dorkickassmeadowes
Summary: ""Now and forever," echoed the party solemnly, and the rain smacked the pub's window panes like punches in a dark alley." Written for tumblr's jily week
1. My First Kiss Went A Little Like This

**Author's Note: this stuff was written for jily week on tumblr, and i figured i should put it on here for posterity. anyhoo. as always, i don't own any of it.**

* * *

Lily Evans' first kiss took place in the summer of 1975, under the lamppost at the end of her cul-de-sac. It was one of those cool, cloudless, starry summer nights that you always remember, even if nothing important happened in it.

She had spent the day in the park where she'd first met Severus Snape (_who was staying at his Nan's for the week, the git, leaving her at a loose end), _with a copy of _The Great Gatsby _and a bottle of cloudy lemonade that her mum had got for her at Safeways. The boy, the very first boy (but not the last, I must add) who ever kissed her, went to school with her sister, and he was six foot tall, with messy brown hair and very blue eyes. By the time she was eighteen, Lily couldn't even remember his name.

He'd turned up on his bike, a Chopper ("I thought only eight year olds rode those," she'd remarked dryly) and asked her about her book. And she was bored, and it was _so hot_ (_not as hot as the summer after that, but that's another story for another day_) and so when it got dark, and the stars had come out, and he asked to walk her home, she said yes.

The way she saw it, he was alright looking, and he seemed to like her a lot ("you're nothing like Petunia," he'd said, "you're a lot prettier too.") and it had _nothing,_ absolutely _nothing _to do with the fact that before she left Hogwarts a few weeks previously, Mary had absolutely _ripped the piss _out of her for never having kissed anyone before. It had nothing to do with that. _At all_.

They stopped underneath the lamppost, and she could see her house behind his ear.

"I've had a lovely day, Lily," he told her earnestly, "May I see you again?"

She laughed. "Of course you can, you idiot! You'll probably see me tomorrow; Sev's not back 'til Monday."

"And Sev is…Sev is your friend from Spinner's End?" the boy said slowly. She nodded.

"Yes. There's no need to say Spinner's End like it's a prison, you know. It's actually quite nice, in certain lights."

"What, like no light at all?"

She laughed again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she told him, and that's when he leant down and kissed her.

It wasn't a _bad kiss_, per se, but it certainly wasn't the type of kiss that have songs written about them. It was standard, mediocre, middle of the road. Just like the boy himself, she would later think.

And when he pulled away, she cleared her throat shyly (_which was strange, because she never did anything shyly, ever_) and said again; "I'll see you tomorrow."

When she was older, not a lot older (dear Lily Evans never made it past 22, dear reader), but older than she was that July night, she would try to remember if she ever _did _see him tomorrow. And in all honesty, she didn't think she did.

* * *

James Potter's first kiss happened that same year, but later, at Christmas, when the snow lay thick on the ground at Hogwarts. He, unlike his future wife, would later be able to recall both the name _and _birthday of the girl who was his first kiss. Her name was Celia Mitchell, and she was a Hufflepuff of tiny stature and a rather kind heart (her birthday, if you're interested, was April 13th).

He was _supposed _to have returned home with Sirius, but since Moony's cycle had been particularly nasty that month (_Thursday 18__th__ December 1975_), he thought he'd better stay, and make sure his best mate recovered properly.

His mum, though she was disappointed, understood, although not fully (_he couldn't imagine telling her. "Oh, by the way Mum, my best mate's a werewolf. Can I stay at school this Christmas to make sure he recovers from his transformation alright?" Not bloody likely)_ and as a result, there he was, stood under the beach tree, his tree, with Celia's frozen lips pressed to his, and snow in his messy hair.

He'd got to know her because she was on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and that October they'd both been in a very nasty collision during a game, that led them both to be in the hospital wing at the same time, in beds next to each other. Of course, he'd spent the majority of his time there (three days, _three days_ cooped up in bed!) wishing he wasn't, but in the dreary hours between the rest of the Marauders visits, he'd found that she was actually a laugh.

"You're a laugh," he'd told her, "for a Hufflepuff."

"_Just _when I was beginning to like you!" she sighed, but she was smiling, so he didn't think it counted, "You know that Hufflepuff have produced _the least _dark wizards of all time, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess," he ran his hand through his hair, "but then you have produced the least _everything_, haven't you?"

She rolled her eyes. But she was still smiling.

"Do you _ever _think before you speak, James?" Celia asked.

"Not really, no," he replied, opening a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans, "Where's the fun in that?"

She said nothing in response, and merely leant over, across their shared bedside table, and grabbed a handful of beans.

"Oi!"

She just laughed.

That day, he'd asked her if she fancied going for a walk at lunch, because Sirius had a hangover, and Remus was still in the hospital wing, and Peter was still eating, and who was James to tear a boy from his food?

"Didn't go home for Christmas, then?" she'd asked, kicking her way through the snow.

"No, I did," he deadpanned, "you're hallucinating me."

"Oh ha ha," she replied, "aren't you a comedian?"

"Thanks," he grinned, "I pride myself on my humour."

"I thought _I _was the laugh?"

He leant against the tree trunk, and chuckled. "Can't believe you remember I said that!"

"Of course I remember," she smirked, rubbing her hands together to keep out the cold, "Best concussion I ever had."

He smiled at her, and quite before he knew it, she'd crossed the little distance between them, and her hands were on his shoulder, and her frozen lips were on his, and the snow fell heavily, like thought it was rain.


	2. I'll Follow You Into The Dark

John Evans died on a cold, cloudy Thursday in the autumn of 1977. His wife of twenty years was by his side, as was his firstborn daughter, Petunia. His secondborn, the redheaded Lily, was nowhere to be seen.

"How strange," the neighbours muttered to each other when the undertakers came to collect the body, "that the oldest one could afford to leave her job in London- she's a secretary, didn't you know?- but the youngest one can't be bothered to leave her fancy boarding school."

In truth, they were only saying this because they didn't know Lily very well at all.

The sun rose over Hogwarts like it was a completely normal day, and Lily awoke to Mary singing _Sheena Is A Punk Rocker _loudly as she brushed her hair. She argued with Marlene about whether Doc Marten boots were part of the school uniform, and she did the _Witch Weekly_ crossword as she ate her breakfast, and everything seemed like it was going to be lovely and fine and be a day that no one remembered ten years later, but it wasn't.

"Owl for you, Evans," Mary nodded upwards, where the tawny school owl was hovering above Lily's head.

"Ooh, lovely!" Lily beamed, and coaxed the owl onto her hand with cooing noises.

"Mum sent me a Crème Egg!" Mary held the sweet aloft triumphantly, but her friend was not listening. There were tear stains on the letter.

"Oi, Evans," Mary nudged her, "_Crème Eggs_!"

Lily closed the letter and sniffed loudly. Marlene, from across the table, leant in to hear what was going on.

"My dad…" was all the red headed girl said, "My dad's, um….I have to- I have to-"

She couldn't finish her sentence because there were tears in her eyes and in her throat and she thought she was going to drown. _Gone_. _Her dad, her lovely dad, who never hurt anyone, her dad was gone._

"I have to go." Lily said quietly and slowly.

"Ev-" Marlene began to say, but Mary cut her off.

"Marlene…"

Lily practically ran from the table, sobbing as she went.

It sort of felt like it wasn't real, that her mum had made it up, that it was a cruel prank, but the rational part of her brain told her that it wasn't, that it was true, that her dad had caught pneumonia and his lungs, weak from years of smoking, had given up, and he was gone.

And she was angry with him.

How could he _leave her_? She needed him, he knew that, she needed him to be there for her because there was _a war on_, and he had been a soldier, hadn't he? She needed him there so he could teach her how to cope, because she didn't know how she was going to cope, she didn't know what she was going to do, _how could he leave her like this?_

She collapsed onto the stairs, grateful when it did not disappear, and wailed into her hands.

"Lily?" came a clipped Scottish voice. _McGonagall._

"Sorry, Professor, I'm-"

"It's alright, dear." McGonagall offered her hand to the teenager, and helped her to her feet, "I received a letter from your mother. I know."

Lily wiped her tears from her face with the back of her hand, but they kept falling, faster and faster.

"Let's go to my office, shall we? You can have a Ginger Newt…"

* * *

Hera and Elion Potter died within one month of each other, of dragon pox and (_possibly_) a broken heart respectively.

Their only son James, did not cry at either of their funerals.

Perhaps it was because he had become, in these few short months, accustomed to death. Perhaps the loss, in quick succession, of both his cousins, of Moody's wife, of Dorcas' sister, of Marlene's grandmother, had hardened his heart.

But whatever the reason, he did not cry, and the gossip columnists of the Wizarding World called him heartless, because they didn't know that he was a soldier, and that he was fighting for them.

When Hera had died, James had been on a job for the Order, guarding the Meadowes' house with Dorcas, and it had been Lily who had to break the news to him. He'd cried then, in her thin arms, tears soaking her shoulder.

"It's alright," she'd tried to soothe him, "it'll be alright." But of course, she knew it wasn't, and it never would be again.

"My _mum_…" he'd choked, "my _mum…_"

"I know, babe," Lily had whispered into his ear, "I know…"

When they'd gone to visit Elion, James had not cried. He had held his father's hand with a vice-like grip, and said comforting nothings, like "_at least she wasn't in a lot of pain at the end_," which was a blatant lie, because Hera had been struggling until her last breath. Elion had nodded, and reached out his other hand to Lily. It was only then, really, that she realised she was a Potter, and that she was going to be a Potter until the day she died.

"She lived a good life, did your mum…" Elion told his son. James nodded.

"Yeah, she did."

"I expect you'll miss her a great deal," Lily said sadly. Elion shook his head.

"I'll be joining her soon enough," he said, "I can't be without her, you see. She's the other half of my heart."

Elion died with Lily and James holding each of his hands, like they had when Hera died. The Healers had said that there wasn't anything _wrong _with him, but his heart had just…well, it had sort of given up.

"We can't really explain it," they'd said, "It just seems that…well, if we're being honest, it seems like his heart is broken."

"It is," James had said quietly and clearly, "He can't live without my mum."

"She was the other half of his heart," Lily added sadly.

The Healers just nodded.


	3. Seven Nation Army

They were playing cards in the common room, just the two of them, when the owl knocked on the window and their lives changed forever.

"Is that an _owl_- snap!- James, is that an owl at the window?"

Lily's boyfriend (_it always felt weird, that word, 'boyfriend', because it didn't cover half of what she felt towards him. The love of her life felt like a much more appropriate word to use_) clambered up, long legs unfolding underneath him.

"Looks like it," he muttered, searching his pockets for his wand, "D'you reckon we should let it in?"

Lily thought for a moment. On one hand, attacks at school were becoming more and more frequent, and she wouldn't put it past Rosier and his gang to pull this kind of stunt, but on the other, it could be carrying news for some poor sod who was lying awake worrying about their parents, or their cousins, or their sisters.

"Open the window," she whispered in reply, "It could be carrying news."

Wand raised, just in case, James let the bird in.

"What does it say?"

He sat beside her, and, as almost a reflex action, she flung her legs over his.

"It's for us."

"What?"

He looked at her. "It's for us, Evans. Look, it says Lily and James on it."

She took the envelope from him. _Lily Evans and James Potter_, it read, _Urgent_.

"Whose handwriting is that?" Lily asked him, but James didn't know.

"Open it, babe," he said, "That's the only way we'll find out."

Hands shaking slightly, she dragged her thumb across the inside of the flap, and unfolded the letter that lay within. Luckily for her (and for us, for if the letter had been dangerous, we would have no story) she did not die, and read quickly and quietly;

"_Dear James and Lily, _

_I understand that it is late, and short notice, but I request both of your presence at a very important meeting tomorrow morning. I have written to your Professors, and you are excused from lessons until after lunch. Please do not share the content of this letter with anyone, and burn after reading._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I am rather fond of sherbet lemons._"

Lily sank back into the settee, and James patted her knee affectionately.

"There," he said, "Nothing to worry about. Just a meeting, is all. It's just a meeting."

"It says burn after reading," Lily said dully, because her head was thumping and her hands were still shaking, "that's…that's…this sounds dangerous, James."

"Loads of things are dangerous," he told her, "Being best mate's with a werewolf's dangerous. Going out with me's dangerous. Bloody hell, Lily, for you, going to this _school_ is dangerous. But you do it. You're doing it. Because for all your caution," he rested her hand upon her knee, and the domesticity of the action comforted her, "you actually don't give three shits about danger."

Dumbledore's office was packed, full to the brim, with people Lily knew by sight but not by name, who she'd never seen before, hell, there were even people there that _James _had never seen before.

A tiny brunette woman was perched on Dumbledore's desk, little legs swinging. She was eating a croissant, and her tights were bright yellow.

"Hold up!" she called when she saw James and Lily hovering by the open door, "Professor, there's the Wonder Kids!"

"I've told you before, Dorcas," Dumbledore appeared at the brunette girl's side, "there is no need to call me Professor anymore. But yes – it is Lily and James. Come in, please."

They shuffled in, clutching hands. They'd never felt more like children.

"Hello lovelies!" the girl on the table said cheerfully, "I'm Dorcas! You here for the meeting?"

James squeezed Lily's hand, and she nodded in response to Dorcas' questions.

"Alastor thinks the Professor's mad for getting you kids in here," she confided, "but I don't. It's about time we had some fresh blood."

"Right…"James said slowly. Dorcas beamed.

"James," Dumbledore bustled towards them, blue eyes sparkling, "Lily. You received my note?"

"We burnt it, sir," Lily said, "like you asked."

Dumbledore smiled a little sadly behind his half-moon spectacles. "Yes," he said, "I suppose you did."

"Sir…"James mumbled, "what exactly…what _is _this?"

"The Order of the Phoenix- a name I came up with myself, so it is quite brilliant, Voldemort will never think of it himself, he thinks phoenixes are foolish creatures- and we, the group, are dedicated to fighting the Dark forces that are attempting to take over our world."

Lily and James shared a look of concern.

"Aren't the Aurors doing that?" Lily half-whispered. Her left hand, the hand that wasn't being held by James', was shaking.

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore replied, "the corruption in the Ministry is so great that one cannot rely on the government to save us. We have to do it ourselves."

"You want us to join you…" James said slowly, and Dumbledore nodded.

"I think, over the years, the pair of you have proven yourselves worthy duellists, loyal friends and companions, resourceful leaders, and highly intelligent healers. And I know," he smiled at them, "that you don't believe in anything more than this cause. Except, perhaps- and this might just be an old man's romanticism- each other."

James squeezed Lily's hand again.

"Can we talk about it?" he said, and the headmaster nodded.

"Of course, no decision has to be made just yet, but-"

"Professor," James said quickly, "I'd really like to talk to Lily about this before it goes any further."

"We could die."

"We could live."

"We might split up."

"We're not going to split up."

"Your mum could die."

"She's old, she's going to die eventually."

"This war might last forever."

"Nothing lasts forever. Except love."

She laughed. "Oh, you fool. My fool."

"I'm not a fool," he clasped her hands in his, "We want this war to end, don't we?"

"We could _die_, James…"

"Better die a hero than a civilian, Lily, you know that."

"What about the boys?"

"He'll invite them in, I'm sure of it."

"He's not invited them to this, has he?"

"He's staggering it or something, he'll invite the boys to join this Death Eater fighting gang, and he'll invite Marlene, and we'll fight together, won't we?"

She looked into his hazel eyes, and all fear she had was quashed, temporarily, by how he made her heart skip several beats when he grinned.

"C'mon," he said, "c'mon, Evans."

Years later, Dumbledore would remember that morning with a sad smile, because they'd seemed so _alive_, that young couple with so much to look _forward _to. And they were gone, slipped behind the veil with their hands clasped tight together like they had that day when they'd come into his office, smiling nervously, and said together; "_We're in._"


	4. Love Song

**April 1979**

* * *

_I'll be the ticket if you're my collector  
I've got your fare if you're my inspector  
I'll be the luggage, if you'll be the porter  
I'll be the parcel if you'll be the sorter_

_Just for you, here's a love song  
Just for you, here's a love song  
And it makes me glad to say  
It's been a lovely day and it's okay_

* * *

It was raining as they came out of the registry office, and they ran, all eight of them, wands lifted in _Imperius_ to shield their hair.

"Wait, wait!" called Celia, and they all stopped, "Photos, we need photos!"

Lily laughed, and it whistled through the raindrops (_and James beamed because she was his wife, and he was her husband and they might be teenagers in a war, but __**Merlin**__, did he love her_).

"Sirius, Sirius," Celia shouted over to the best man, "Go back into the doorway! We don't want rain in the picture!"

Sirius stubbed out his cigarette and swaggered over, his navy blue, second hand suit still completely dry.

"Link arms with me, darling," the bride grinned at him, "I want a picture with my boys."

"Take the picture quick, Cee!" James roared over the wind, "We've only got a table at the pub for an hour!"

"An hour?" Mary groaned from underneath the tree that grew on the corner between the office and Diagon Alley, "That's not _nearly _enough time to get drunk!"

"You'd be surprised," Marlene remarked dryly, and Peter handed Celia the camera.

"Smile!"

The wind howled, and it blew Lily's hair every which way, and she worried that her skirt would blow up (_it went down to her knees, and was white lace, and had belonged to Mary's sister in the 60s) _but she had married James not ten minutes ago, and Remus and Peter were pulling faces at her from across the street, and she was arm in arm with her two best friends in the whole wide world, and _God_, she was happy.

Celia took the photo, and the wedding party cheered.

The radio was playing a shitty Celestina Warbeck song, but none of them particularly cared. Tom said that drinks were on the house, and they were toasting everyone, from James and Lily, to Petunia and Vernon ("_may they be miserable together forever!_") to Dumbledore and Moody and most especially, to themselves.

"Oh, come on now," Mary said after the ninth toast, "Let's not toast anything more; we'll be toasting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and then we'll get chucked out."

"We're getting chucked out in a minute anyway, Mac," Marlene downed her pint, "Might as well go out with a bang!"

"Hear hear," Sirius called, "And now I've got your attention…"

He stood, and the small crowd groaned loudly.

"Not a speech!" Celia moaned, "I hate speeches!"

"Good job it's not your wedding then, Mitch, isn't it?" The best man cleared his throat, and Peter coughed "wanker."

"Oi! Enough of that, please. Now. As I'm sure you're all aware, the journey to this moment has been long and painful-"

"You're telling me!" James interrupted, and Lily laughed.

"Shut up- and I have, on several occasions, been convinced that this was nothing but a pipe dream of James', that Lily would never, ever agree to only ever shag him for the rest of her life- _oi, that's what marriage__** is**__ you tosser_- and yet, here we are. I'm a man of actions, not words, so I'll keep this short; Lily. We've had our ups and downs, and spent a good deal of time mutually disliking each other, but…well…if Prongs is only ever going to fuck one person from now until the day he dies, I'm glad it's you."

He raised his glass to her, and she raised hers back.

"Thank you, darling," she smiled, tears of happiness glazing her green eyes.

"And now to the groom," they beamed at each other, "Listen, mate- I tried to write a really detailed paragraph about how much you mean to me and the history of our- the Marauders- friendship, but…shit, man, all I really want to say is this; we're a family now, yeah, now and forever?"

James nodded, and Sirius finished his drink, blinking rapidly.

"Now and forever," echoed the party solemnly, and the rain smacked the pub's window panes like punches in a dark alley.


	5. Hiding Tonight

The rain was constant, and it was one of those awful drizzles that don't stop until the stars come out. Lily was lying on her back in the living room of their house (_gosh, didn't that sound odd? Their house. The house that they owned. She was twenty years old and already owned a property. Blimey)_ reading the Prophet, though she didn't know what for- it hardly ever told the truth nowadays- and listening to James singing badly in the kitchen.

"Babe!" she called, "Babe, there's been another disappearance!"

He stuck his head around the door, hair as messy as it had been the first day they met.

"What? Who?"

She heaved herself up, and he sort of sprinted towards her, like she was made of glass and he wanted to catch her if she fell.

"Alright, alright, keep your knickers on!" she laughed, "I'm only four months gone, I can stand up by myself."

He mumbled something about not wanting her to fall, and she laughed.

"Oh my fool," she said, handing him the newspaper, "I do love you a lot, you know."

"Yeah," he replied, running a hand through his hair, "yeah, I know. I do too. Love you, I mean."

Lily sat beside him on the sofa, head buried in his shoulder as he read aloud.

"_The mother of the prolific Auror Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody has gone missing," _he said,_ "Mrs Juno Moody, 72, was last seen at her Glasgow home last Saturday. If anyone has any information regarding the whereabouts of Mrs Moody, they should not hesitate to contact the Auror department at the Ministry of Magic." _James cleared his throat. "Is that it?"

His wife (_still felt weird, wife. It was a word that belonged to a man far more grown up than he was_) nodded.

"Poor Mad Eye," she sighed, and wrapped a long, thin arm around his waist.

"I wish we could help him…"

Lily nodded against his chest. "Mmmm…"

"We should help him. He's already lost Belinda, for Circe's sake, the last thing he needs is his mum gone too."

She pulled herself up and rested her head on his shoulder, so strands of her red hair fell down his arm like blood.

"But James," Lily whispered, slipping her thin hand into his, "we _can't._"

He sniffed, like he was inhaling the sadness that lay between them so it would not touch her. But, she thought sadly, it was too late. The sadness, that little ache she felt when she thought about those people, all those people, who were fighting day after day for her, it was in her as much as it was in her.

"Stupid fucking prophecy," he mumbled into her hair, "stupid fucking Voldemort."

"I know, babe," Lily murmured, "I know…"


	6. A Child Is Born

He was born at two in the morning, and his screams were loud enough to awaken the dead. They didn't mind though, that young (_so young, barely out of their teens_) couple, they didn't mind that he wailed so loudly, because it was proof that he was alive, that he was real, he was there with them, their boy.

His mother, aged twenty and seven months, had only ever held one baby before her own, on account of there being no cousins on either side of the family, and all her parents friends having grown up children. The baby she had held went by the name of Nora Bones, and she later died tragically young, at the age of three years and two months, on account of a Death Eater attack which murdered her entire family. Lily had held her when she was just three days old, and thought that this baby was more alive than she was. And, briefly, when she handed the baby to James that it would be nice, one day, someday, to have a baby like that. A little fat baby with pudgy arms and chubby legs, one with his hair and her eyes. But some day. Not now, in the middle of a war.

Of course, fate or whatever it was (_destiny, perhaps? A badly made contraceptive potion, more like_) had other ideas, and he, their baby, was born at two in the morning on the 31st July 1980.

His father, aged twenty and five months, had very little experience with babies too, aside from Nora Bones, and he sat, petrified, at the foot of their bed, at three o'clock in the morning (_and he was asleep, their baby was asleep_) clutching his son like he was drowning, and this was the only thing keeping him afloat. Which it was, sort of.

"_Christ_," James Potter breathed, "he's _tiny_…"

"He's gorgeous," Lily whispered back, "isn't he?"

James nodded vigorously. They were alone, the three of them – Hestia, the Order's resident Healer in training (_she'd delivered all three of the Bones' children, and Emmeline's neice and Caradoc's brother, and now this one, now the Potter's baby_) had just left, tears in her dark brown eyes, and they were alone.

"His eyes," _fuck's sake, Potter, don't cry, _"they're blue…" And then he laughed, because it was absurd, they were _kids_, and they had a kid, "Something you want to tell me?"

Lily laughed loudly, and the baby stirred in his father's arms.

"I read," she murmured, "that babies' eyes are always blue, you know, when they're first born."

"Isn't that just cats, though?"

A giggle escaped her red lips, and slowly, he shuffled down the bed so he was sat beside her, backs leaning against their pillows, and their baby in his skinny arms.

"We should write to the boys…" she rested her head on his shoulder.

"No," James said, and his answer surprised him. Always, it had been him and the boys, the boys and him. They were the Marauders, and now- now, they still were, but this baby, the most alive thing he had ever held, this baby was the most important thing. "No, I just want…just us, yeah? Just for a little bit longer…"

She nodded against his arm.

"I wasn't going to tell you this," she sighed, "but he's not yours."

He nearly choked on his own spit.

"_What_?"

She laughed then, loudly and brightly. "I'm joking you tosser, of course he's yours! He's the spit of you, look at him!"

"_Merlin's pants, Evans_!" James said shakily, "Don't tease a bloke like that!"

"I'm just keeping you on your toes," she yawned, "Are you going to put him down?"

James shook his head. "You go to sleep, babe," he told her, and her eyes fluttered shut, "I'll keep him safe."

And he did.


	7. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

**author's note: well, jily week has been an emotional journey. thank you and goodnight.**

* * *

The day they died, he made her breakfast in bed. A proper, full English breakfast with hash browns and _everything_. And as she tucked into it, he went and got Harry, and that's how they started their last day on Earth.

"I feel like," Lily said, stretching like a cat, "today is going to be a good day."

"And why's that?" her husband (_still felt weird, that word_) asked her.

"I dunno," she confessed, "I can just…_feel_ it, y'know?"

"A good day used to be one where we caught Death Eaters and then got pissed- _sorry, Harry_- at the Leaky Cauldron," James grumbled, "What's a good day now?"

Lily smiled a little sadly, and leant over to kiss him. "A good day now," she told him, "is one where we are happy."

"I'm always happy when I'm with you," he mumbled, and she threw her head back and laughed. There was a smudge of ketchup on her chin.

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said, you fool!" she giggled, taking Harry in her arms, "Isn't your daddy a fool, baby? Isn't he the sweetest fool you've ever seen?"

"You're ganging up on me!" James protested, "Evans, you and my son are ganging up on me!"

"We're not, are we, Harry?" Lily held her baby's chubby fists in her own, and he laughed.

"You _are_," James ran a hand through his hair. He kissed her anyway.

Not a bad way to start your last day, you know. Not bad at all.

* * *

At half past three, a Blondie song came on the Muggle radio (_which Lily had inherited from her father, and couldn't bear to throw out_), and she demanded James dance with her, as Harry sat in his high chair and clapped his pudgy hands together.

"One-two-three-one-two-three," Lily said, and James laughed.

"Babe, I don't think you can waltz to a Blondie song."

"Of course you can!" she declared, "And if you say you can't, it's because you're not trying hard enough! C'mon now; _once I had a love, and it was a gas, soon turned out, had a heart of glass –_James, are you even_trying_?"

He wasn't, and he doubled over with laughter, and she couldn't be angry with him, because when he laughed his glasses went wonky on his nose and he was so beautiful she wanted to cry.

"You – were – trying – to- _waltz_," he wheezed, "to – a – _Blondie_ – song!"

And she laughed too.

* * *

"Catch the colours, Harry," James cooed, "Go on, catch the colours!"

Purple smoke puffed from the end of his wand. "Can you catch the colours? Can you? That's your mum's favourite colour, you know, purple. She says it looks best with her hair."

"Well it _does_," came a voice from the door, "and don't _tease _him, James, you know he can't catch smoke."

"He's trying though, bless him," James replied with a laugh, "Bed time?"

"For him, yes," Lily said, brushing her long red hair from her face, "not for us. I found that bottle of wine Celia bought us for our wedding."

James laughed again. "C'mon kid," he said to his son (_that word felt weird too_), "Bed time for you. Mum and Dad are going to get very drunk."

"I feel like we deserve it," Lily replied, taking the baby.

"We do, Evans," James nodded, "we deserve it."

And when she was half way up the stairs, the front door clicked, and the story ended with a cry of _"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" _


End file.
